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“Chris, I can’t believe you got in the pool!” Marie Hall, Foster’s second in command, groaned down the phone at him. “You are not his friend; you are his security. You need to maintain some boundaries.”
Chris sighed and rubbed his hand over the short strands of hair on his head, still wet from the pool. He had decided to call in an update whilst Jamie was in the shower. Marie was not happy with him, even though he had tried explaining that Jamie would likely have drowned if Chris hadn’t been in the pool at the time. She wasn’t satisfied with it.
“I know he can be very charming,” Marie sighed. “But you must keep your distance to do your job properly. Nothing wrong with being friendly, but no more of this, okay?”
Chris reluctantly agreed, but he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. Something wasn’t quite right about Jamie Barratt and Chris wasn’t sure if distance was really what he needed right now.
Jamie puts on the front that he’s fine, but after what happened in the pool, Chris knew it wasn’t the case. The details of his interrogation at the hands of the Taliban had been restricted. He obviously came back on crutches and the White House had released a press statement saying that Jamie had received daily beatings but had said nothing else, except that James Barratt was making a steady recovery. Chris knew there was more, but even though he had been tasked with Jamie’s security, his bosses didn’t see fit to give him that information.
Whatever he had experienced in the pool, Jamie seemed to be alright again after his shower and they had passed the rest of the day in the house, playing table tennis and watching moreFriendsepisodes and playing with Boomer. All the same, something was off. Jamie was quieter, a little more reserved than he had been for the previous twenty-four hours, and Chris knew right then that he would be bending the rules again before their time was up.
* * * *
Jamie thought he would sleep badly, but he woke up refreshed, having spent the night dreaming of driving a motorbike on Route 66, searching for watermelon. Boomer was lying next to him on the bed, head on his paws and tail wagging enthusiastically. Jamie grinned and got up, dressing and heading down the stairs to feed his dog and himself. Roberts was already up and eating cereal at the kitchen counter and watching the news. Jamie gave him a hearty clap on the back.
“Hey, pal,” he said cheerfully.
“Morning,” Chris replied neutrally.
Jamie had done his best to whitewash over his panic attack the previous day, but he knew he had been more withdrawn than he would have liked.
He found a clean bowl in the cupboard and poured out a healthy dose of cereal, skipping the milk and opting for eating it dry, just like he had as a kid. Boomer attacked the kibble in his dish.
He wasn’t really paying any attention to the news until Chris motioned to the TV with his spoon.
“Can you believe that? My buddy Andy works at the VA in the City. It’s a travesty.”
Jamie looked up and tuned in.
“Mayor of New York, Geoffrey Pierce says that public funding will be cut for a lot of non-essential services in New York City. Amongst those places earmarked for closure is the Veteran’s Association Counselling Center, as Governor Pierce believes that veterans may be better suited to private or hospital-run counselling rather than draining public money for their own service…”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jamie yelled, almost throwing his cereal bowl into the sink. “That son of a fucking bitch! This is bullshit!”
“Hey, calm down!” Chris said, half standing as though to step in.
“No, I can’t. That guy is an ass! He’s doing this on purpose.”
Jamie tugged at his hair and paced the floor, very agitated. Geoffrey Pierce had done his best to bring down President Barratt, all through her term as Governor of New York, and hounding her now in office. Messing with the public funding for the VA’s counselling sessions was just another way to hit her where it hurt. And Jamie wasn’t going to stand for it. He fished his phone from his pocket, dialing his mother’s direct number. She answered on the second ring, and he immediately launched into a tirade against Pierce.
President Barratt was indeed annoyed. “Go,” she said to him. “You put on your uniform, pin all of your medals on your chest, and you march down to that VA and you speak against him, do you hear me?”
“Yeah?” Jamie said, brightening. “You trust me to do that?”
“Absolutely. He is not going to close that place down. We will fund it from our own pockets if we have to, but he is not doing that to our veterans. And you are the perfect person to do it.”
He felt good when he hung up. A strange good, like he had back in Afghanistan in the instant before a firefight started. It wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t really excitement. It was like a heightened state of calm and acute focus, where everything was clear. He turned to a very confused-looking Chris and took a deep breath.
“Put on your best suit, pal. We’re going to war with Mayor Pierce.”
Jamie did just as the president had instructed. He put on his pristine dress uniform and pinned on the medals that mattered. Then he put on his shining boots, combed his hair straight, and placed his peaked hat on his head. He looked every inch the perfect soldier, the war hero. He looked ready for a fight.
* * * *
“Geoffrey Pierce has had it out for my mother since day one,” Jamie explained in the car as Chris drove him from the airport and into Manhattan, the other two servicemen from the house in the car behind. “He’s determined to do anything to harm her, including hitting things that are close to her personally. Closing the counselling center is his way of taking a dig at me and he doesn’t care how many innocent people’s lives get destroyed in that process.”
“That’s a bit extreme,” Chris mused.
He hadn’t stopped frowning since Jamie’s outburst in the kitchen earlier. Jamie had looked so angry, so genuinely upset at what he saw on the news. He’d had one short conversation with the president, and in no time at all, Chris had found himself driving the First Son to the New York City VA where veterans and their families were protesting at the proposed funding cuts. Frantic phone calls had been made to the NYPD to provide extra security for this impromptu visit, and Chris was already getting a stress headache. He glanced to the man in the passenger seat, smoking a cigarette. Chris realized that Jamie smoked only when he felt under pressure.
